


In The Dead of Night

by thatonedudewiththename



Series: Watching Over Each Other, Or Sex in the Watchpoint [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Smitten McCree, Virgin Hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonedudewiththename/pseuds/thatonedudewiththename
Summary: In the dead of night, I see your ghostWaiting by the windowIs it fear or anticipation I feelKnowing you're here?Is it you who waits for meOr do I await you, my ghostTo come inside and possess me?





	In The Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> this took SO LONG to finish i just kept jackin my dick not writing and getting distracted but. here it is

      Judging by the non-existent light outside of the window in Hanzo's room, it was still late.  
      Sure enough, when he turned his head and checked his bedside clock, it read 3:27 in the morning. It'd been a little over four hours since he went to bed, so why he was waking up now, he didn't know, especially since he still felt tired—that didn't mean that he'd be able to fall back asleep, though. That'd clearly been shown earlier, when he was trying to actually, you know, GO to sleep, which apparently hadn't worked. Sighing, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing whilst grabbing his hair ribbon from the nightstand and his robe from the bedpost at the foot of his bed, slipping his arms through the sleeves; he patted softly out of his room, down the hall towards the large double doors that led out to one of the many outlooks—this one in particular faced towards the east. There was barely a sliver of light on the horizon, just hinting at sunrise.  
      Blocking part of the view was a silhouetted figure with a thin cloud of smoke billowing out beside him, Hanzo seeing that the person was shirtless, had long messy hair, and wore only jeans; by the cybernetic arm and gun holstered to his side, it was McCree. He lowered his gaze as he came to a stop beside him, feeling the cowboy's eyes on him almost instantaneously. "Hey babydoll, you're up late," McCree's smooth baritone voice rolled out of his chest, Hanzo seeing a coquettish smirk play across his face and furrowing his brows at it.  
      "Yes. I... needed some air. I can't seem to sleep these days," Hanzo replied, holding his ribbon in his mouth as he pulled his long hair back. It was then that he realized he hadn't tied his robe, and his almost naked body was in full view—McCree hadn't said anything about it, though, at least not yet. Knowing him, he would soon.  
      However, the next thing that came out of McCree's mouth was something entirely different. "You sh'd wear yer hair down more often, Hanzo. Looks nice on ya,"  
      Hanzo faltered in tying the ribbon around his chonmage, the hair slipping from his grasp and falling back around his face. In spite of himself, he could feel his cheeks warming at the baseline compliment like a schoolboy; all this happened within a second, and before McCree (hopefully) could catch on, Hanzo continued in tying his hair up, successfully knotting the ribbon while saying, "Thank you, McCree,"  
      "Please, call me Jesse,"  
      Again, Hanzo couldn't help but frown—no one called McCree Jesse, not even Soldier, who knew him from back in the day. He opened his mouth to say it, concentrating on forming the vowels with great effort. "Jesse... thank you,"  
      Something gleamed behind Jesse's eyes—barely a flash, but Hanzo saw it regardless. It sent shivers up and down his spine, like ice water trailing across his back. "Yer the first person to call me that in a long while," Jesse blew a pillar of cigar smoke out of his nose, finishing, "Never heard a more beautiful sound,"  
      "You must truly be full of yourself to like the sound of your own name," Hanzo joked.  
      "I ain't talkin' 'bout that,"  
      Now, Hanzo was not particularly bright in the area of flirtation, not even in his youth, but even he wasn't as dense as to not realize exactly what Jesse had meant by that. He lowered his gaze to the floor and pulled his robe closed around him, tying the sash into a neat bow; he mouthed Jesse's name, knitting his brows together upon doing so, the taste of it in his mouth like the sweetest, smoothest syrup. It was... strange. "Y'know, Han, since we both can't sleep 'n my cigar's dyin', how'sa 'bout we share a drink?"  
      Hanzo looked up to Jesse with some distaste. "I prefer not to drink in the company of strangers,"  
      "Aw c'mon now sugarplum, it ain't like we gonna be gettin' snapped 'r nothin'. Just a few drinks, that's all,"  
      Jesse's expression was one of innocence, the kind not so easily formed via acting, which led Hanzo to believe, somewhat easily, that he was being told the truth. Maybe it was those umber eyes of his. "...I suppose we can," He sighed, tugging at his robe then finishing with a smirk, "Only if we drink sake, though,"  
      Jesse chuckled airily, running a hand through his soft-looking brown locks. "Alrighty then,"  
      Almost as soon as those words were spoken, Hanzo watched and felt as Jesse linked his arm with his, glancing down to the bare, hairy arm and suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Without any further discussion, they walked together back into the building, going right down the hallway instead of straight to get to Jesse's room; around the corner was Bastion, her huge robotic frame crouching low to the ground, her singular optic glowing in the dark. It illuminated a good-sized spider crawling along the floor, coming to a stop in front of Bastion, the two of them just staring. "I hate spiders," Jesse commented softly. "You like them creepy things, Bast?"  
      Her only response were a few cheery beeps.  
      "Well, if ya like 'em, I won't kill 'em,"  
      Bastion trilled and blinked her optic.  
      Hanzo couldn't help but marvel at the innocent interaction, at Jesse's display of benevolence; his hidden compassion was surely something he wouldn't show to just anyone, especially another member of Overwatch—what would become of his reputation as a hardened cowboy? This was a part of the American that he was not used to being a part of, and as they finished walking the last few feet to Jesse's room, he couldn't help but ponder on why he was being allowed that privilege.  
      "Here we are," Jesse said, waving his hand over the lock so the door would slide open; Hanzo entered with Jesse's warm hand on his lower back, gently guiding him into the dark room, a dim light turning on overhead during the action. He sat on the bed somewhat timidly, not really sure if he was allowed to sit there, but Jesse didn't seem to mind when he saw him; he merely turned towards his mini fridge and slid the door open, rifling through the top shelf for a few seconds until he apparently found what he was looking for. "I did a job in Japan a few years back fer this guy that owned a bar. He paid me in alcohol," He took something out and straightened his posture, turning around holding a wooden box, a line of kanji painted on all sides. He sat beside Hanzo on the bed, Hanzo raising an eyebrow upon being handed the box.  
      "What is this?" He asked, gracefully taking the corners of the painted lid between two fingers and lifting it, not waiting for a response.  
      He received one anyway. "Sake. Mr. Yamaguchi made it himself,"  
      Hanzo stared down at the polished, white and blue ceramic tokkuri and the two matching delicate chokos, all pieces inlayed in soft, blood red satin. They looked unused. "Jesse, this is far too nice to use for such a frivolous occasion,"  
      "Bosh, Hanzo," Jesse took the box from him and set it on his nightstand, removing the flask and glasses, "I ain't never got the chance to try it, an' since ya wanted sake, I figured there ain't no better time than now ta drink it,"  
      Before Hanzo could protest, Jesse popped out the cork and poured them both a cup of the almost clear, slightly viscous liquid, the surprisingly fragrant aroma sparking flashes of nostalgia in Hanzo's mind—the scent of genuine Japanese sake was truly one he'd missed. It made him sort of homesick. "What's the traditional sayin' fer drinkin' in Japan?" Jesse asked. He was holding his cup up to Hanzo's as though to clink them together.  
      "乾杯 (Kanpai)," Hanzo answered.  
      "Well then," Jesse clinked their glasses, "Kanpai,"  
      "乾杯,"  
      Hanzo went to sip his sake, but saw Jesse knocking his back like a shot, scoffing at his lack of sophistication. "Jesse, it is considered a sign of good manners to _sip_ your sake, to appreciate its flavour, especially since this was made specifically for you,"  
      Jesse held up a hand and dipped his head a bit, that ever present, charming grin still brightening his handsome features. "My apologies,"  
      Rolling his eyes only slightly, Hanzo continued in tasting his drink—and raised his eyebrows to the roof. It was fruity but earthy, hints of blossoms and rice mixing into the complex taste; slightly sweet and very smooth, it went down his throat like butter, but still had that burn that he enjoyed. The aroma of it wasn't too subtle or strong, and if he was being honest, he'd never had anything better. He grabbed the lid of the box and flipped it the right way around so he could read the writing on the front.  
      _Yamaguchi Brewery and Izakaya_  
      Below that was the description of the alcohol.  
      _50% polished_  
      Now Hanzo's brows began to hurt from how high he was raising them. He turned to Jesse, asking, "Jesse, were you aware that this was daiginjo?"  
      "Dai what now?"  
      "This is premium sake," He pointed to the description. "It is fifty percent polished, of the highest quality available,"  
      Jesse cocked his head. "Mr. Yamaguchi told me he'd brewed some nice stuff, but I didn't think he'd go 'n do that,"  
      For some reason, Hanzo wasn't buying that Jesse didn't know of the quality of the sake he'd been given as payment—surely, even he was smart enough to ask. This only confused him more. However, he was too impressed by the sake to really focus on anything besides drinking it, so he decided to put that discussion aside for a later date.  
      "It really is better if ya sip it,"  
      Hanzo turned to Jesse with a slightly cocky expression, smirking a little in response. "Things are usually better the Japanese way,"  
      "No argument there, babydoll,"  
      Hanzo could feel Jesse's eyes roaming over his body as much as he could see them doing so, the sensation much like the way cherry blossoms would feel when blown against his skin during spring; he couldn't bring himself to hate it, even though the snobby, clan master part of himself wanted to. To distract himself from the mounting tension he felt between them, he took a glance around the room Jesse spent his time in, unsurprised by the amount of Western-themed clutter stacked here and there, but there were also some Japanese things stuck in with the rest of it: books of Japanese folklore, a copy of Fujishima Takeji's painting _Sunrise over the Eastern Sea,_ a figurine of an anime character that Hanzo recognized as one that Genji used to like, as well as a bonzai that sat atop his desk below the window. "I was not aware that you had such refined tastes in art," He commented, motioning with his choko toward the painting on the opposite wall. "That is a classic piece of Fujishima's,"  
      Jesse chuckled lightly, drinking more of his sake. "Ya spend a lotta time in one place, ya learn to like the culture,"  
      "How long were you in Japan for?"  
      "Maybe three 'r four years. Spent most of it in Ishinomaki and Sakata,"  
      Jesse's pronunciation was terrible, but Hanzo knew what he meant. Didn't mean he couldn't laugh at him, though. "You spent so much time there, but you could not be bothered to learn correct pronunciation?"  
      "I'm a cowboy Hanzo, I ain't gotta pronounce nothin' right,"  
      As his laughter died away, Hanzo suddenly realized something. "Wait, if you lived there for that long, certainly you knew about proper drinking etiquette," He narrowed his eyes. "Why did you act like you did not know?"  
      That glint from earlier returned to Jesse's eyes, him leaning in a little—when had he gotten so close?—and saying in a murmur, "I like hearin' ya talk all proper. Can't blame me fer lovin' the way ya speak Japanese,"  
      In any other circumstance, Hanzo would be offended by the hint of objectification in Jesse's words, but instead, they stirred something inside of him, making his breathing hitch and his gut flip-flop. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, but with their close distance, he found Jesse's rough face very enticing. "You enjoy me speaking my native language?" He asked uselessly, if anything just to ground himself via speaking.  
      There was a deep half-laugh, followed by the rumble of Jesse's husky voice saying lowly, "There's a lotta things ya do that I enjoy,"  
      When had Jesse's voice become so rattling? Hanzo couldn't concentrate hard enough to remember, not when the cowboy was inching closer to him on the bed, the scent of his musk infiltrating his nose and making him slightly dizzy; his expression was sultry, eyelids low over his eyes and lips drawn into a subtle simper, determination etched into his pupils. His metal hand settled on Hanzo's own, and that's when Hanzo realized exactly why he'd been brought here. In an attempt to end the interaction, he stood up and poured himself more sake, tossing it back before pouring more into his choko. He could sense Jesse staring at him, and it made his skin goosebump. "Thank you for the drink, McCree, but I am feeling tired,"  
      Jesse didn't respond for a second. "What happened to calling me 'Jesse'?"  
      The bed rustled, signalling him standing—Hanzo didn't turn around. Instead, he squared his shoulders and drank the last of his sake, setting his cup beside the tokkuri and straightening his robe. "It is late, thank you for your hospitality," He said, ignoring Jesse's question and making for the door.  
      "Hold on now, there ain't no rush, you just got here,"  
      A hand grabbing his elbow had Hanzo twisting it and holding it up, grabbing Jesse by the collar and spinning him around to be pinned against the wall beside the door, him letting out a quiet _oof_ when landing. Hanzo glared daggers into him, forcing the trembling in his hands at the near proximity to cease and willing the aching in his gut to subside; he wasn't going to let this happen, he wasn't going to allow this dim-witted, intolerable American to force his way into his system, to try and charm him to bed, to use his trickery to get him to open up. Not on his watch, not while he still had his pride! "You listen to me, you guileless snake! I know what you're trying to do, and I will not allow it! I will not allow you to think you can get me under your covers with expensive sake and talk of culture like some politician's whore! Your inane flattery is useless on me, so do not waste your time trying. That effort is better served on someone with lower standards—try my brother,"  
      For the first time in history, Jesse was completely silent.  
      Sound in his words, Hanzo reached for the door and waved it open, his motions stiff as he stalked out of the room and down the hall, back to his own room and bed, which he fell onto with a heavy sigh and a pounding heart, his whole body lax with lethargy.  
      Maybe now he could get some sleep.

。

      It wasn't until almost a week later, the night after a mission, that he and Jesse actually spoke to one another again. Hanzo was fairly surprised that Jesse hadn't tried to do or say anything to him the past few days—there was a (small [not really]) part of himself that was even—maybe—disappointed he hadn't.  
      He was in the mess hall around one, eating a fruit cup at one of the tables in the far corner, reading an online comic that Hana had recommended him— _Killing Stalking_ it was called, and if he was being entirely honest, Hana had good taste in literature. Although the premise to it was unconventional, he liked it regardless, having been unable to put his phone down since he got back to Gibraltar.  
      Near the entrance was a noise, followed by a gruff voice mumbling, "I'll feel that later,"  
      Hanzo lifted his eyes to find Jesse looking at him from next to the table on the opposite side of the room, expression unreadable from this distance but his gaze was piercing regardless; somewhat like a wildcat stalking its prey, he made his way over to Hanzo, the swagger in his walk making his face heat up, looking back down at his phone in order to avoid that happening—not this time, McCree. The chair across from him slid, alerting him to Jesse sitting there. Their legs tangled beneath the table, either on purpose or accident, Hanzo couldn't say; "Hanzo, can ya put yer phone down for a second?" Jesse requested.  
      Hanzo's nails dug into the tabletop, he then setting his phone aside, lifting his head to Jesse so he could look at him directly, much to the disdain of his heart rate. "What is it, McCree?" He asked.  
      "Why won't you call me Jesse anymore, babydoll?" Jesse asked, then saying in a quieter tone, "I know ya don't like me like I like you, but we can still be pals, yaknow,"  
      Hanzo glared, wide eyed, into the soft brown irises in front of him, Jesse's expression so remarkably melancholy but uxorious all the same, his brows slightly furrowed and lips set. Even now, his beauty was without equal.  
      What was he playing at? There was something so inexplicably fake about how Jesse was treating him—he couldn't quiet place what it was, if it was even anything at all. The hesitation he felt was... moreso fearful than distrust, but he didn't want to admit it, _couldn't,_ not with the pounding behind his ribcage threatening to burst his heart at the mere thought of doing so. "Hey," Jesse waved his hand in front of Hanzo's face, snapping him back to reality. "Didjya slip into yer own li'l world there?"  
      "My apologies, I... was just thinking about something,'  
      "Ya seemta be thinkin' a lot lately,"  
      Hanzo's laugh was weak, but it was still the first time he'd even cracked a smile since the last time they'd been alone together. It felt right, somehow. "Yes, you're right,"  
      "So," Jesse tilted his head to the side some, "Are ya gonna answer my question?"  
      Oh, right, that. Crossing his arms loosely and leaning forward on the table, Hanzo sighed, feeling that incessant fear bubble in his gut. "I can not... I can't seem to..." He clenched his jaw, unclenched. "I am scared of the way you treat me,"  
      Concerned etched itself into Jesse's features, him opening his mouth to speak, but Hanzo cutting him off. "Distancing myself from you by calling you by your last name is a way to, remove the intimacy we shared. It was an attempt on my part to try and push you away,"  
      Jesse rested forward on his elbows, the white T-shirt he wore stretching over his muscles in a very ribald manner—Hanzo tried not to focus on it too much. "If ya didn't like me comin' onto ya, all y'all had to do was tell me. I ain't nippent,"  
      Hanzo had no idea what that meant, but he figured it wasn't that important; shaking his head in disagreement, he said, "It's not that I didn't like it, I merely was not sure how to deal with it," He nibbled on his tongue before continuing, "Also, I was confused by my... attraction, to you,"  
      Jesse's eyelids fluttered and his smirk widened. _"Attraction,_ huh?" His hair fell in his face when he spoke, his dishevelled appearance only making him that much more appealing. "I didn't think you were th' kind ta go fer a Western fella like me,"  
      "I suppose there's still more to learn about me and my preferences,"  
      "Damn I hope so,"  
      The euphimism did not go unnoticed, Hanzo only flushing deeper once he'd fully understood it. He stood from his chair with his empty fruit cup and his phone in hand, Jesse standing with him; he threw his cup away, then walked back to the cowboy, tensing slightly upon the contact of Jesse's hand on his shoulder. "I ain't ever seen you in anythin' over than yer fundoshi," He said, raking his eyes over Hanzo's tight black tank top, his lips quirking into a flirtatious simper. "You sh'd really wear casual clothes more,"  
      Hanzo felt his whole body heat up at the sultriness in Jesse's voice, his hands wandering down his arms to fondle his biceps, squeezing and kneading them, leaning into him as he did so. "So, you got the hots fer me, huh? Well, there's a way to fix that, yaknow,"  
      Hanzo stiffened, biting his bottom lip so hard he thought it'd bleed at Jesse's warm breath blowing over the sensitive skin of his neck, his voice whispering into his ear, _"Go steady with me, Hanzo Shimada,"_  
      Pressing his hand to Jesse's back, Hanzo looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, but after a second, that changed to a somewhat playful smile (though not too obvious). "You certainly did not waste any time in your efforts to bed me," He said.  
      Jesse huffed an airy laugh. "I said date, not fuck, but I ain't complainin' if you want'a,"  
      Hanzo meant to make a smart comment in return, but was interrupted by Jesse suckling on his neck, the moan his throat tried to release being bitten back; between kisses, Jesse reiterated, "Is that a 'yes' 'r what, sugarplum?"  
      "Ahh," Hanzo grunted, "Yes, I think—think I'd like that,"  
      A thunderous rumble of a groan rolled out of Jesse at his response, like he'd been jerked off, even though he hadn't been touched besides on his shoulders with Hanzo's hands. When the American pulled back to face him, his expression had Hanzo's knees weak— _he'd never seen such adoration._ "You look so gorgeous," He said without realizing.  
      "Mm, yer one to talk," Jesse purred.  
      Hanzo gasped weakly at the gentle caress of Jesse lifting his shirt, his fingers dancing across the skin of his hips and lower abdomen—it was foreign, but riveting. The warm, calloused hands slid up his stomach to his chest, groping and squeezing his pecs, rough thumbs dancing over his sensitive, erect nipples, sending shocks of pleasure up his arms and down his spine. He cried out, clasping a hand to his mouth as tightly as he could to muffle the sound, but Jesse pulled it gently away, saying, "Don't you go coverin' up your mouth, sweetheart, I wanna hear ya loud 'n clear,"  
      "Please, we are—we are in the mess hall..." Hanzo managed to focus his eyes on Jesse's own, settling his hands over his and attempting to cease their movements. "Let's take this somewhere more private," He said in what he hoped was a sensual tone.  
      It appeared to have some sort of affect on Jesse, as his mouth fell open slightly and his nails dug into Hanzo's chest. "Ain't gotta tell me twice, baby,"  
      The moments leading up to them making it to Jesse's room were a blur of kissing and caressing, clothes coming off and falling to the ground like so many breadcrumbs, leaving a trail behind them that anyone could easily decipher the cause of; Hanzo was too overwhelmed to care, his blatant inexperience coming to light when Jesse pressed him up against the closed door once they were inside his room, him jumping involuntarily at Jesse's down-like touch, the alien contact causing the muscles of his lower abdomen to twitch away from it. His breath caught in his throat and he keened, "J- _Jesse,_ please, calm y-yourself,"  
      Jesse's somewhat frantic movements slowed to a stop, his gaze lifting from Hanzo's almost exposed crotch to his red, overheated face, questioning with lust-glazed eyes, "What is it, Han? Somethin' wrong?"  
      Hanzo trembled where he stood, posture as though he was being pinned to the metal behind him—arms spread from his side, right cheek against cold steel, sweaty back steaming the door. His chonmage was no longer upright, the ribbon having come loose sometime during their kissing, his hair sticking to his forehead in some places due to the sweat; running his fingers through it, he took the ribbon out all of the way and let it fall to the floor. He licked his swollen lips and said in a rough voice, "There is something I should tell you," He averted Jesse's stare, eyes dancing to anywhere that wasn't the man in front of him. "I'm a... v-virgin,"  
      Jesse's sharp inhale had Hanzo gripping the door beneath his hands, his toes curling. "How... _much_ of one 'r we talkin' here?" He asked.  
      Managing to turn his head to face him, Hanzo answered truthfully, brows twitching. "You are the only person to have seen me naked besides Genji," He looked down at his feet. "Not even my bodyguards have had the opportunity,"  
      He darted his eyes to Jesse to see him smiling softly, the same glint in his irises from before but now paired with a gentle countenance. "Thank ya kindly fer tellin' me, Hanzo. I'll be sure to make this memorable fer you,"  
      The suggestive imputation dripped off his words like honey from a honeycomb, and Hanzo would be damned if he didn't absolutely love it. "I trust you," He said in a breath, and they collided as though magnetized, flesh and cartilage melding together in a mess of kissing and groping, Hanzo practically salivating from the almost unbearably arousing kiss; his tensed hands grabbed at Jesse's back for purchase, his mouth falling open when Jesse messily dragged his lips and tongue down to his neck and chest, leading a sloppy trail of busses from there to the erection straining the front of his boxer briefs. Hips twitching out to meet the hot air blown over it, he reflexively buried his hands in the cowboy's hair and fisted, unintentionally pulling it. Jesse let out a high-pitched whine at that, nipping Hanzo's hip bone whilst simultaneously yanking his underwear down around his ankles. "Don't go doin' that..." He grunted, looking up at Hanzo through his lashes, "Unless ya want me comin' in my panties,"  
      Hanzo yanked his fists outwards and Jesse arched, shivering, a dark stain spreading across the crotch of his white silk briefs. "F-fuck Hanzo," He said in a throaty tone; his eyelids were so low on his eyes that it was like they were closed, his jaw slack and blush spread out to his chest. The sight, plus his hands in his hair, was enough to make Hanzo's cock jerk. Jesse must've seen it, because he smirked and asked, "Am I really that hot?"  
      "Shut up—"  
      Before Hanzo could finish, Jesse dipped his head and took all of him into his mouth, feeling the tip of his dick and some of the shaft get squeezed by Jesse's throat—it was the most incredible thing he'd ever felt. Crying out, his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips snapping forward and consequently shoving the last half inch or so into Jesse's mouth, feeling his nose press against his pelvis; he heard (and felt) Jesse gag a little and the sound shot straight to his dick, making it throb.  
      Then, oh Gods, Jesse started _sucking._  
      Somewhat pathetically, he whimpered and mewled, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from making any more sound as his body jolted of its own volition. The sensation of Jesse pulling off of him was insane, but looking down at him and seeing tears run down his cheeks, a cocky grin on his face, hair messy, and a large bump in his underwear, now that... _that's_ what made him moan. "I-I—" He tried to convey, shivering like branches in the wind, "I've never orgasmed before,"  
      Jesse's expression didn't change other than a slightly raised brow. "I'll be yer first time _and_ first orgasm?" He huffed a laugh. "No pressure,"  
      "Apologies," Hanzo said quietly, managing a half-laugh.  
      Jesse stood up and tugged him over to the bed, pushing him gently onto it and spreading him out with his large hands; Hanzo couldn't even begin to imagine how embarrassing he must've looked, all exposed and disoriented like he was. They'd barely started doing anything explicit and he was already feeling fucked out. "Shit, yer stunning," Jesse said, face skewed into an expression of heated desire. "Before I met ya, I didn't think people as beautiful as you existed, but now, I—" His mouth opened a little, closed, gaze shifting from Hanzo to the bedsheets, then back again. "I think, I may be in love with ya, Hanzo,"  
      Hanzo's stomach bottomed out. "Don't—" He tried to sit up, both in an attempt to leave and to run away from Jesse's words. "I am undeserving of such... privileges as that. Love..." He shook his head.  
      Jesse took him by the arm and held him in place, Hanzo trying to shake him off but failing. "Love ain't no privilege, sugar, it's a right, and everyone got the right to love," His hands cradled Hanzo's face, Hanzo himself glaring at him with false hatred. "Even us monsters,"  
      Hanzo clicked his tongue, but couldn't stay upset, not when the expression in Jesse's eyes was so doting—really, he could not find it in himself to argue. However... "You only love me for my appearance, do you not?"  
      "Maybe at first, but when we went on that solo mission—in Libya, remember?—and I saw ya in action, list'ned t'ya when we would talk, I sooner realized just how much I liked you,"  
      Something flattened Hanzo's chest as though it were weighed down, all breath being knocked out of him as a result; surely, Jesse knew of what he'd done, of what he was forced to do, of the burden he had to carry every day. He certainly knew of his. And yet, he still liked him? _Loved_ him, even? His mind couldn't fathom it, not even when Jesse kissed him, the action much more romantic than previous, lips moving against each other in slow, gentle motions; he'd lost some horniness during their accidental love confession, but with this he was soon back to the level he'd been at beforehand, keening into Jesse's mouth and falling with him back onto the bed, arching up against him to gain some kind of friction on his leaking cock, breaking from the kiss to cry out. God, he'd never felt anything so wonderful, so exquisite in his life—was this the reason Genji was always waking up with a new person in his bed? He'd scoffed at the time, but now he was beginning to understand. "I-it feels good, it f-feels really good, Je-Jesse," He managed to stutter out.  
      "I ain't been outta the game long, but d-damn," Jesse said in a somewhat laughing way, "With you it's better than anythin' else,"  
      "You think too highly of me," Hanzo breathed, smiling a bit. "I o-only hope I can... live up to your e-expectations,"  
      "Ya already have, baby,"  
      The pet name had Hanzo's groin shooting through with arousal, the dense ball of heat like a miniature sun, threatening to swallow him whole. Eyebrows spooned, hands twitching where they lay beside his head, he said in a low tone, "I enjoy being called that,"  
      "Baby?"  
      Hanzo nodded. Biting his lip momentarily, Jesse bowed his head to Hanzo's ear, licking over the ridge before nibbling the lobe and groaning, voice gravelly and rattling, _"Yer so needy for me, ain't ya, baby?"_  
      A moan shook out of Hanzo along with his breath, his nails digging into Jesse's back, leaving little crescent marks in their wake; they were both still naked, Jesse between Hanzo's legs atop him—one hand in his, the other caressing his body—Hanzo beneath him with his blush spread over his entire body, his chest, face, neck, and parts of his lower body glistening with sweat. Hanzo loved the sight of him, full of lust and wanton, and all because of _him—_ he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt wanted, in any sense, and knowing that Jesse truly cared for him only made him that much more desperate. "Take me, Jesse," He said needily, snuffling at Jesse's neck, bussing and licking over the heated skin, relishing the sounds that Jesse made as a result, "I am yours alone,"  
      "God, I'd never—" Jesse shivered, breath hitching, "I never thought I'd see the day,"  
      Hanzo's legs jerked as Jesse lifted them up, folding them back to reveal his hole, which was almost twitching in anticipation; the position was very exposing, Hanzo having to force himself to actually look at Jesse and not the wall behind him. Jesse was staring at him, hands roaming over the globes of his ass cheeks and up the back of his thighs, squeezing and kneading, a thumb ghosting experimentally over the ring of muscle—Hanzo tensed, relaxed, a hand coming up to cover half of his face. Jesse leaned off to the side towards his nightstand, pulling open the first drawer and digging something out of it, that item turning out to be lube once Hanzo was able to focus on it; the cap was popped off and a small amount squeezed onto Jesse's fingers, Hanzo doing his best to relax as he knew it would hurt if he didn't. He made a small noise in the back of his throat upon the first intrusion, his hips stuttering for more the further it was pushed in. "Ohhh," He groaned, his toes curling. "S-such a... st-strange feeling,"  
      "Mm,"  
      Jesse fingerfucked him slowly, turning and crooking the digit around, as though exploring his insides; a moment later, it brushed against something that had him convulsing off the mattress beneath him, his throat closing up from the shock of pleasure. Eyes wide, he tried to ask what had just happened, but he couldn't get his vocal cords to function. Somehow, Jesse apparently caught on and told him, jabbing gently at the area, "That's called your prostate, sugar. Bundle o' nerves that make ya feel good,"  
      Hanzo could barely register what he was saying, it felt so amazing, grunting at the sensation of a second slick finger prodding at him, greedily accepting it when Jesse pushed it in. "Ain't you eager?" The cowboy commented, Hanzo turning his head at the prideful smirk in his tone.  
      Each thrust of his fingers was inconsistent and sharp, purposefully aimed just below or above Hanzo's prostate before finally slamming into it, causing Hanzo to croon even louder than before; having now three fingers stretching and spreading him open under Jesse's hot gaze made abashment flare throughout him, watching as he bent down and began to lick around his relaxed hole, briefly flicking his tongue over it. Hanzo's knee jerked. "Jesse, p-please," His voice shook, knowing how desperate he must've looked and both loving and hating it.  
      Jesse lifted his pupils to his face and lazily dragged his tongue over him, dipping it inside the entrance for a moment before suddenly latching his mouth around it and starting to fuck him with his tongue in quick bursts. The intrusion of wet warmth was unlike anything Hanzo had ever experienced, and by Gods was he vocal about it—it took Jesse reaching a hand up to cover his mouth to get him to be quiet. He grabbed him by the back of the head and tangled his fingers in his hair while bucking up onto the tongue inside him, his tightly closed lips trembling from the effort of keeping silent and his brows so dipped they hurt; already, he could feel something building up in his gut, the pressure tightening his balls and making more pre-cum dribble out of his cock, which was so hard and sensitive that he was scared of touching it, lest it burst. The mounting pleasure quickened his breathing, tensed his frame, and just as he was about to boil over Jesse pulled away completely, no longer touching him. He whined and his body rolled of its own volition, managing to tear his eyes open and look up to Jesse, who was sitting back on his heels with Hanzo's lower body propped up in his lap. He looked wrecked, his chocolate hair an absolute mess, pupils blown wide, lips perpetually parted, chest heaving from his labored breathing, hard dick twitching in the air, toned, hairy body slick with sweat; his hands, one flesh and one metal, were bruising Hanzo's hips where they grasped him, and if Hanzo was being entirely honest, he looked so unbelievably—"Beautiful," He breathed, "You're like a sunrise in spring,"  
      Jesse's pleased smile was genuine. "You're gonna make me blush, honey,"  
      Hanzo sat up in his lap so he could kiss him, memorizing every inch of his skin with his hands and mouth, pulling noises from him that rattled him to the core. Jesse wasn't as loud as he was, but was more sensitive, any part of him that Hanzo touched earning a reaction; he stroked his arms and sucked on his nipples, Jesse groaning and pulling on his hair briefly. He kissed downward and around the cock flopped against his stomach, instead pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of his thighs, grazing his nails over the tops as lightly as he could; in some part of his mind, it was like he was worshiping him, Jesse's body likened to a shrine for the god that lived inside, each move he made another prayer, another bowl of rice given—his adulation for him was endless.  
      So, without thinking too much on it, he began to suck his dick, feeling Jesse seize up, hearing him cry out, the hands in his hair tightening their hold. "Oh sweet... _Jeeeesus,_ Hanzo,"  
      Hanzo had never sucked dick before, but Jesse seemed to like what he was doing, so he kept it up, using too much teeth and too hard of suckles, his sloppy inexperience pushing Jesse to his limit. He swirled the tip of his tongue over the slit and was promptly yanked off, Jesse's hips bucking into the air repeatedly as he whined, "Fuck, fuck Hanzo, I-I'm gonna come i-if ya don't—"  
      Wiping his mouth of the drool and cum that had slathered itself there, he laid back down, Jesse shaking as he crawled back on top of him, again settling his lower body on top of his lap. Without much forewarning, he thrusted into him almost fully, Hanzo letting out a shout—out of pain or pleasure, or both, he couldn't tell. Regardless, he bowed upwards, rocking back on Jesse as a result, unable to make a sound besides a guttural choke; Jesse grunted at the motion, his hips stuttering in the last inch, a small gasp blowing past his lips. Hanzo locked his heels around Jesse's thighs and his arms around his neck, saying through his moan, "Make love to me Jesse," He held him close whilst yanking on his hair, "Love me like you say you do,"  
      Jesse began to thrust in deep, slow motions, eyes screwed shut and mouth slack, voice slurred when he spoke. "Y-yes baby, anything for you,"  
      Hanzo thought him absolutely astounding at pounding him, the languid snapping of his hips intoxicating, especially when he shifted and hit his prostate dead-on. He heard a howling in the distance, and when he covered his mouth, it became muffled.  
      The bed was creaking in time with them, the metal frame rattling and smacking against the wall, drowned out by their voices; Hanzo's was almost shouting over Jesse's, even through his hands, Jesse himself saying in a grunt, "H-Han, sugar, y-yer ssso loud... It re-really feel that g-good?"  
      No response other than a wild nod, Hanzo managing to say after a few seconds, "My ap-" He cut himself off with a groan, finishing, "Apologies, I-I-I will... try and b-be quieter,"  
      "Don't," Jesse shoved his hips forward even harder, ripping a whine from Hanzo, "Turns me on,"  
      God, Hanzo was so close to coming already, literally could not be riding closer to the edge, every touch of his body like fire—it was painful almost. "I'm go—" He tried to convey. "Jesse, I—"  
      "Hold on a l-little longer sugar, 'm almost there,"  
      Hanzo dragged his nails down Jesse's back hard enough to raise welts and draw pinpricks of blood, arching, his eyes rolling back into his head and a strangled moan choking out of him. He couldn't... he couldn't...  
      With a shout of Jesse's name, he came untouched.  
      _"Fuck,"_ Jesse hissed, whining weakly, movements faltering. "Sso tight now,"  
      It wasn't long after that he followed behind, liquidus warmth flowing through Hanzo's insides and spilling out around the cock in him. It was tantalizing, and if Hanzo hadn't already come, it would've definitely made him do so. Jesse collapsed atop him with heavy breaths, Hanzo holding him and panting, the two of them just lying there for a short while until Jesse rolled off of him to lie beside him. "I woulda lasted longer, but," He chuckled, "Yer so damn sexy,"  
      Hanzo looked away. "As are you,"  
      He felt Jesse's hand slide across his stomach and grip his hip, felt the scratchiness of his beard on his shoulder, glancing down to see him curled up beside him, staring up at him inquisitively. "Any regrets, disappointments?"  
      Shaking his head, Hanzo wrapped his arm around his shoulders and said softly, "None,"  
      Silence for a time; Hanzo drifted off briefly, the soothing motion of Jesse stroking his chest and side and the calming sound of his breathing lulling him into a dreamlike state, where he felt asleep but not quite—if anything, he was in such a serene state that it was as though he was floating. A voice broke through his stupor like an arrow, gruff and sweet. "Babydoll, you still with me?"  
      "Mm,"  
      Jesse poked his ribs. Hanzo opened his eyes and looked down at him. "Yes?"  
      "Do..." Jesse's voice trailed off into a mumble.  
      "What?"  
      "Do ya wanna know why I chose you?"  
      Jesse sat up, tugging Hanzo with him, Hanzo furrowing his brows and tying up his hair while doing so. "What do you mean?"  
      "I mean," Jesse fidgeted with his hair. "We got a lot in common. When I heard what happened t'ya, I felt a connection, yaknow? We both had'ta do things we didn't want, and now we gotta live with that guilt,"  
      If Hanzo was being honest, he hadn't been aware of Jesse's past, nor had previously had the interest in knowing, but as much as he said he could relate to his trauma, he still... doubted. "You are aware that I... am a kinslayer, right?"  
      "Right,"  
      "How could you _relate_ to killing your own brother?"  
      Jesse frowned briefly, lip twitching. "Just 'cause it wan't my brother don't mean I ain't ever killed somebody I cared about,"  
      Hanzo picked at his cuticles and rubbed his hand over his bicep, expression set. "You are correct. I'm sorry,"  
      After a few seconds, he added, "And, if you'd like, we could, talk about this further, over dinner?"  
      The smile Jesse gave him fluttered his heart and squeezed his chest like a fist grabbing him. "Sure sugarplum, I'd love to,"  
      A soft kiss, one Hanzo could feel in his blood; when Jesse pulled back, his countenance was as soft as could be, eyelids droopy and simper gentle. Judging by his heart rate, Hanzo knew that his face was very much the same. "Let's get some shut-eye, huh baby?" Jesse grinned, leaning down and pulling the sheets up over them.  
      Now that he thought about it, Hanzo was fairly exhausted—the excitement of today, plus the post-mission lethargy, was leaving him with a heavy feeling in his bones, weighing him down onto the bed as though they were anchors. No sooner had he shut his eyes that he fell into a dreamless sleep, soothed by the bodily warmth of someone beside him, and the hope of a chance at happiness.

      No one was awake when he walked into the mess hall the next day; he'd risen early out of habit, still somewhat sleepy but not quite enough to lay back down, so he'd headed into the mess hall in hopes of finding a cup of coffee—not his typical drink of choice, but he felt it necessary for today.  
      Near the far end beside the fridge was the machine, the pot beneath it steaming and riddled with condensation. Someone had just made it. As he grabbed a mug and poured himself some, there was a noise behind him. "These are yours, right?"  
      He turned at the waist to find Soldier— _Jack,_ he wasn't wearing his visor—holding an empty mug in one hand and articles of clothing in the other, which was outstretched to him. After a brief second of examination, Hanzo realized they were his from last night, the ones he'd forgotten to pick up. Face warming, he took them from Jack, avoiding eye contact. "...Yes. Thank you,"  
      "Sure,"  
      Hanzo finished pouring and headed to the closest table to drink and reflect; he could hear Jack making his coffee, turning his head slightly to watch, if anything just to visually stimulate himself as the mess hall was unbearably empty and bleak.  
      He was adding sugar to his coffee—as for creamer, he couldn't tell, as Jack was standing where it was usually kept. Hanzo followed the large arm that was reaching for the cubes of sugar upwards, allowing his eyes to roam over the man in front of him.  
      Jack's back, even without his jacket, was broad and muscular, accentuated by the fitted grey shirt he wore; his waist, though small, led to strong, shapely legs, giving him curves that were attractive, if unmanly. His white hair reminded him of Genji's in his youth—it was the colour he had to bleach it to in order to dye it green. It always did turn out uneven, but Jack's was white all over, a single shade that somehow did not make him appear older than he was. If anything, it amplified his aged handsomeness, like a wolf in its later years. He wore boxer briefs that seemed a little too loose around his waist, but fit snugly to his thighs and butt, only making them more obvious. "I don't like being watched,"  
      Hanzo blinked and looked up to Jack, who was now turned slightly towards him, stirring his coffee with an enigmatic expression. Lowering his gaze back to his drink, Hanzo said, "My apologies. I must have spaced out,"  
      Jack didn't say anything, at least not until he sat down across from him at the table, both hands holding his mug; his unshaven face and scars gave him the appearance of a warrior, but his posture and coffee turned him into a rugged, worn out traveller that'd run out of places to go where no one knew who he was. At times like these, Hanzo felt pity for him. "You were with McCree last night," Jack stated—not a question, he knew Hanzo had been.  
      Hanzo tried not to think about the implications of Jack knowing and responded, "Yes, I was,"  
      "I know,"  
      Jack drank his coffee. Hanzo wasn't sure what exactly the point of this conversation was. A couple seconds later, Jack said, "Just so you know, I don't care,"  
      It took Hanzo a second to process what he meant by that. "Thank you, Jack—"  
      "Doesn't mean I want to hear it, though. Keep it down next time. Also, there's cameras in here,"  
      Hanzo turned red and ducked his head, trying to drink his coffee to avoid showing that he was embarrassed. "Yes, I will do my best to remember that,"  
      "Right," Jack sipped more of his drink.  
      At this point, Hanzo decided to finish his coffee in his room.


End file.
